


"Are You Stalking Jon Again?"

by StandBehindHouseStark



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Domestic Fluff, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-27 08:46:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21115985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StandBehindHouseStark/pseuds/StandBehindHouseStark
Summary: “Hey, stupid.”A familiar voice jolted Sansa from her thoughts, making her jump and clutch a hand to her chest in surprise. “Seven hells, Arya. You scared the life out of me.”Arya, however, seemed wholly unaffected by her sister’s panic, and moved to stand beside her before continuing, “Are you stalking Jon again?”“No! I just needed some air.” Sansa groaned.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a quick, two-part ficlet that I originally wrote on Tumblr before updating it and posting it here. The idea was I just wanted to write some fluffy House Stark interactions centred around Jonsa. For this story, Kneelgate and J****ys never happened, and the remaining Starks are just chilling at Winterfell after the War for the Dawn. But it's really just pure domestic-Starkling fluff so the outside plot doesn't matter too much.

Sansa stood against the wooden railing overlooking the training yard and took a deep breath, inhaling the cool winter air. She found herself coming out here more and more often; to find moments of reprieve from her duties as Lady of Winterfell, and decidedly _not_ to watch Jon, despite what Arya and Bran said.

She loved having her brother back, _truly_ back now that he was free from the burden of being the Three-Eyed Raven, but he had proven that he could be every bit as irritating as Arya could, and the pair loved to tease her so. Mostly about Jon. They’d often jape about Royal Weddings, or wanting nieces and nephews sooner rather than later.

However, as was so often the case, Jon was coincidentally in the training yard with a group of orphans from Wintertown. The King in the North was running around, pretending to be some ferocious beast as the children gave chase, wielding twigs as swords. Laughter rang through the air, and Jon’s beaming smile as he fell to the ground when the kids finally slew the giant made Sansa’s heart flutter in a way that it hadn’t since she was a girl. Jon was great with children, and seeing such a gentle side to the King renowned for his strength and bravery reminded her of a promise Father had made so many years ago.

“Hey, stupid.”

A familiar voice jolted Sansa from her thoughts, making her jump and clutch a hand to her chest in surprise. “Seven hells, Arya. You scared the life out of me.”

Arya, however, seemed wholly unaffected by her sister’s panic, and moved to stand beside her before continuing, “Are you stalking Jon again?”

“No! I just needed some air.” Sansa groaned.

Arya raised an eyebrow, but shrugged before turning to look at the scene below them. Having seemingly tired from playing Knights & Monsters, Jon was now sitting in the dirt. He seemed to be telling a rousing tale as the children sat gathered around him. Ghost had now joined the group and was laying down lazily, letting the children pet him.

“Jon would make a good father, don’t you think?” Arya asked with a smirk.

Sansa rolled her eyes, already knowing where this conversation was going. “Please don’t start, Arya. I just waded through 3 hours of petitions, the last thing I need is-” her sister quickly cut her off.

“Can’t you just tell him how you feel already? This pining is driving Bran and I mad."Arya snapped at her, "All we want is some little Stark pups running around the keep, but you two seem determined to keep up this dance.” Sansa opened her mouth to respond but no words came to her.

Arya continued. “And before you start, Jon most certainly feels the same way, but he’s even more hopeless than you are. Which is why _you_ have to be the brave one, and go down there and tell him to wed you already.”

At that, Arya hooked her arm in Sansa’s and dragged her towards the stairway. Sansa rolled her eyes again, but didn’t put up any fight. Truly the idea of Stark children running around Winterfell again is all Sansa wanted, and the thought that Jon might love her back filled her with hope. When the two finally reached the top of the stairway, Arya let her arm go and gave her a pointed look.

“Alright, alright. Fine.” Sansa muttered, “But if I tell Jon how I feel, you have to do the same with Gendry.”

This time it was Arya’s turn to blush, but before she could stammer out a retort, Sansa was already halfway down the stairs. She took a deep breath to collect herself, and slipped into her Lady of Winterfell mask, hoping her face wouldn't betray the nerves she felt.

_Here goes nothing._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the following conversation that takes place between Jon and Sansa. From Jon's POV this time.

**JON**

“…Well, the story goes that she fed him to his own hounds, but you didn’t hear that from me.” Jon said in a mock whisper, quickly looking left to right as though he was afraid of being overheard. He chuckled as the children let out a chorus of oohs and ahhs. 

As he finished his story, Ghost, who had been sitting contentedly as some of the orphans stroked his fur, jerked his head up and bolted to the other side of the yard, where the very Lady of Jon’s story was walking towards the group. Sansa stopped to give Ghost a quick scratch behind his ear, before beckoning him to follow her.

Jon grinned as his companion bounded behind Sansa excitedly. Truly Ghost was as much Sansa’s wolf as he was his now. Though she couldn’t warg into him like Jon, Ghost did often prefer her company to his, partially because she snuck him scraps of meat at dinners, and constantly showered him with affection. After he returned from Dragonstone, Jon remembered being stunned to see his fearsome Direwolf stalking out of the Wolfswood; muzzle dripping with blood, rabbit carcass in his mouth, and an assortment of colourful ribbons in his coat, courtesy of one Sansa Stark.

“So, what stories has my cousin been sharing with you?” Sansa asked lightly as she walked behind Jon, patting his shoulder before sitting down next to him. _She’d be a good mother_, Jon thought. And the domesticity of the situation filled him with joy. This was everything Jon wanted; him and Sansa sitting with Ghost, telling stories to their children. He didn't know exactly when his feelings for Sansa shifted, all he knew was that this moment seemed so close to what he imagined married life to be like that he couldn't help but lose himself in the thought. Distantly, Jon realized he probably had a very dumb smile on his face, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. He supposed he was almost always smiling whenever Sansa was near.

“King Jon was telling us about when the two of you retook Winterfell, about how you saved his life!” A boy named Brydan exclaimed.

“He says you’re the fiercest Lady he’s ever known!” Another orphan named Elena continued.

Jon flushed, he hadn’t expected Sansa to ever actually hear about how he would practically gush over her when he told his stories. Though Sansa looked just as flustered, he realized. “His Grace is very kind to say so. Though truly it took both of our combined efforts to free Winterfell.” She told the orphans. 

Elena seemed to ponder this, before smiling excitedly. “Maybe King Jon should marry you! All the old Kings of Winter were wed to the Lady of Winterfell, and you would be a great Queen!” Elena continued. Jon couldn't help the blush that bloomed across his face, that only deepened when Sansa _winked_ at him before turning back the orphans.

“Oddly enough, that is exactly what I was about to suggest to Jon. Would you mind giving me a moment with the King?” Sansa asked with a small smirk. 

At that, the children all ran to the other side of the yard, giggling the entire way. Leaving Sansa alone with a now sleeping Ghost, and a very red-faced King in the North. The pair both stood up and faced each other. Jon tried to find the words to say, but he had always been bad with words at the best of times, and Sansa saying she wished to marry him had stunned him into silence.

“You mean to ask about marrying me?” Jon finally sputtered out, after what felt like an ages-long silence to him.

“I do, Jon. And unless I’ve misread things, I think you meant to eventually ask me the same thing.” Sansa said, although it sounded like a question.

She sounded confident, but Jon knew her well enough to know she was nervous. It had been well over a year since they fell into each other’s arms at Castle Black, and aside from the few moons Jon was held prisoner on Dragonstone, they had spent almost all of that time at the other’s side. Jon saw how she was subtly rubbing her palm with her thumb, heard the slightest waver in her voice. That Sansa was as nervous about this as he was gave him the confidence to take a step closer and gently cup her cheek in his hand.

“Aye, my love, I did mean to ask you eventually. Though it seems you’re braver than I.” 

At Jon’s confession, and new term of endearment, now Sansa was visibly flustered. Even still, it was Sansa who leaned her face closer to his.

“So it would seem…” She pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, and Jon truly felt like a blushing maid now.

“My King.” She kissed his other cheek.

“My love.” This time, a lingering kiss to his forehead. Before pulling away, her blue eyes boring into his grey.

“My Lord Husband.” 

They both leaned in this time, and their lips finally met in a tender kiss. Kissing Sansa felt like the most natural thing in the world to Jon, and it dawned on him that he could have been doing so ages ago, when the revelation of his heritage was first revealed. Jon decided he would just have to make up for lost time and deepened the kiss, hands moving to her hips, while hers wrapped behind his neck. But all too quickly they were cut off by an excited squeal.

Jon pulled away reluctantly, and instantly the pair were swarmed by the group of orphans who had evidently been watching the entire scene unfold. The children were all giggling merrily and offering the congratulations. The noise naturally drew a bigger crowd, and before long it felt like half of Winterfell had descended onto the training yard to congratulate their King and their Lady on the betrothal. Sansa began to chat idly with the well-wishers, while all Jon could do was grin like an idiot as he watched her. So regal with the Lords and Ladies, and so motherly with the Winter Town orphans.

All the commotion in the yard woke Ghost up, and Jon's eyes followed him as he stalked away sleepily. That's when he noticed Arya wheeling Bran towards them, both of them sporting knowing grins on their faces. Jon realized it must've been one of them who gave Sansa the push to finally confess her feelings, Gods know the pair had been taunting him for ages trying to get him to do the same.

Arya met his gaze and mouthed_ you're welcome_. Jon rolled his eyes at his sister -because Arya would always be his sister- and turned back to Sansa, who was still conversing with some minor Lord. He wrapped his arm around his newly-betrothed's shoulder and she instantly leaned into his touch. Jon smiled as he thought of his family. The pack was finally back together, with no more wars to fight, no more manipulators to tear them from their home again. And if the Gods were good, soon enough there would once again be some Stark babes in Winterfell.


End file.
